


To Be a Canine Genius

by itsfinnmcmissile



Category: Mr. Peabody & Sherman (2014)
Genre: Angst, Family, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:31:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2905961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsfinnmcmissile/pseuds/itsfinnmcmissile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of oneshots about a bowtie-wearing dog, and his rather unusual life. Will contain some angst, but most stories will be fairly light, and will probably all end happily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was no greater conflict of pride and utter humiliation in the life of Mr. Peabody than his tail. Although his ears and long snout might be more startling to those meeting him for the first time, it was really his soft, furry, uncontrollable tail that set him apart from humankind, and proved beyond a doubt that he was, in fact, a dog. It stood up when his curiosity was captured, wagged vigorously when he was happy, and drooped miserably whenever he was afraid. And unlike his face and voice, which he could school into an appearance of perfect serenity when required, it had a habit of betraying his true state of mind to the world at any inconvenient moment.  
It was a treacherous companion, for sure.   
Even when it did behave, it served as a constant reminder of what he was not. He could never be mistaken for a human, no matter how hard he tried to fit in. It was a dead giveaway when he allowed it to be seen, an extreme source of discomfort when he had briefly attempted to wear bluejeans to hide it, the perfect base for vicious taunts, and toddlers simply loved tugging it.   
But despite the many downsides to having a tail, Mr. Peabody knew he would never be happy without his. It had given him better balance as he had learned to walk like a human. It had told his first friends he liked them, when he was still too shy to tell them so in words. It had provided Sherman with endless hours of entertainment as a toddler. And perhaps most important of all, it reminded Peabody of his mother, who had never been even slightly embarrassed to be a dog.  
If a tail was good enough for her, well, he'd keep his, and he'd do his very best to be proud of it.


	2. Second Chances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An idea I had one day while taking a shower: What if Peabody decided not to adopt Sherman?
> 
> Well, here's my take on that prompt.

 

Peabody knew he could never be a good enough father for a human boy. It was a fact of life: no matter how qualified he might be skill-wise, a dog couldn't possibly provide a child with the sense of security, stability, and understanding that he or she deserved. There were too many differences, too many hurdles to jump. Only pain could come from such a ridiculous experiment, and far too much of that pain would be experienced by the child.

So Peabody made no attempt to adopt Sherman. He visited the boy regularly, donated generously to the orphanage where Sherman stayed, and as Sherman learned to speak and wonder why Peabody could never stay, Peabody apologized profusely and explained carefully. He was doing the right thing, he reassured himself constantly; even an orphanage would be a better parent than a mere dog could ever be.

The orphanage was clean and bright, the children were healthy and given all the attention it was humanly possible to provide. Sherman might not be happy to be there, but it was by no means a bad place to stay. Peabody wished a family would adopt his dear Sherman of course, but this situation was all right.

Then one day, all that was shattered.

“Hello. This is Mr. Peabody. I would like to schedule a visit with Sherman, please.”

There were several seconds of silence. “I-I'm sorry, Sir, I'm afraid that won't be possible.”

“Why not?” Peabody asked, concerned.

“He was on a field trip with his kindergarten last Tuesday, there was an accident on the freeway. He didn't survive. I'm so sorry.”

The beagle sat down hard. His paw shook, and the phone nearly dropped from his grasp “Please tell me this is a prank. Please.”

“I wish I could, Sir.” Her voice was quiet, sad. It was not the voice of a joker.

 

* * *

 

Peabody couldn't stop thinking about Sherman's death. That brave, enthusiastic little boy would never be able to grow up, see the world, and achieve great things. The dog shuddered. Sherman had never even had parents he could remember, much less parents who had shown him that they cared.

The dog hated that Sherman was dead. But even more so, he hated the circumstances of that death. Suddenly, every choice he had made “for the boy's own good” seemed so pathetic and selfish. No child deserved to die without having a proper home first! Even a home with a father who was a dog would be better than that.

Mr. Peabody didn't sleep for two days, thinking about the matter. And slowly his pain turned to determination: he would never allow himself to give in to his fears again, if giving in to them meant not making the right choice. Resuscitating Sherman was, of course, unscientific nonsense. Adopting another child as a sort of repentance would be kind, but Peabody knew his canine nature would never let him feel more than mildly protective and fond of him or her.

There was really only one option: Peabody must build a time machine, travel back to when he found Sherman, merge with his past self, and do everything in his power to try and adopt the boy. He was a dog after all, and a dog _never_ lets his boy come to harm.

 


End file.
